Page 20 of Sunny Skies Ahead (Watford Sweethearts #2)

Chapter fourteen

Kameron

I didn’t stop thinking about the kiss the entire rest of the afternoon.

I’d lived through a lot of crap in my life. I’d weathered storms that would have broken other people. I’d gotten incredibly good at compartmentalizing when things went south. I could forgive and forget and move on without putting much effort in.

But the feeling of Imogen’s kiss was a feeling I didn’t think I’d ever be able to forget.

Perhaps more alarmingly, I realized as I walked down the hill to the tiny house; I didn’t want to forget. I didn’t want to sweep this under the rug as a mistake. It didn’t feel like a mistake in the moment, and it didn’t feel that way now.

Our kiss felt like a reckoning, a homecoming.

I wanted to do it again. I wanted to do it properly, where I could feel her smooth skin beneath my hands, capture every beautiful, breathy sound, see those curls that drove me wild fanned out against my pillow.

I wanted to learn how she liked to be kissed, to give her everything she wanted and more .

I wanted more. That was the simplest way to describe it. I always wanted more when it came to Imogen. I had an unsettling suspicion that it would always be like this.

Unless we found a way to clear the air.

I stepped onto the porch of the tiny house, raising my fist to knock on the door. I hesitated, and in the two seconds I hesitated, the door opened, and I damn near jumped out of my skin.

Imogen had changed clothes. She was wearing a sage green PJ set that looked impossibly soft. The tank top rode up just enough that I could see a sliver of her brown skin, and that desire to kiss her, touch her exactly how she wanted to be touched, flared to life again.

“Hey,” I said awkwardly, not trusting myself to say anything else. It was embarrassing, really, how freaking awkward I was when it came to Imogen.

Now that I knew what her lips felt like, how she tasted, that awkwardness was even more apparent.

Imogen gave me a soft smile and leaned against the doorframe, her black curls falling over her shoulders with the movement.

“Hey yourself.”

Some of the tension leached from my shoulders. She hadn’t left the house, nor was she screaming in my face or calling me a creep.

“I wanted to say I’m sorry for earlier,” I said, swallowing tightly. “With what happened at the dock.”

I wanted to smack myself.

Imogen’s soft smile remained, and she shrugged .

“There’s nothing to apologize for, Kam.”

“I asked to kiss you,” I said with a grimace. “I crossed a line, and I shouldn’t have. If I made you uncomfortable in any way, you have my sincerest apologies.”

Imogen’s expression softened even further, and I felt like the biggest dick on the planet. The last thing I wanted was to put her in an awkward position.

“If I’m remembering correctly, I was the one who dared you to,” Imogen said. “You’re not entirely to blame. And I’m sorry for running.”

I let out a small laugh, crossing my arms over my chest with a shrug. If she could be casual about this, I could too. Some of the anxiety dissipated from my body as I looked at her.

“I guess you did.”

“As crazy as this sounds,” Imogen said, “I’m glad we kissed.”

The floor damn near fell out from under me.

Tell me it’s not all in my head. Tell me there’s something here.

Tell me you’ve been thinking about our kiss all damn day the way I have.

Tell me you feel it too.

“Now that we’ve gotten whatever weird thing exists between us out of our system, things can go back to how they were.”

Oh.

I tried not to feel the soul-crushing weight of Imogen’s dismissal for what it was. It was far better this way, for us to chalk this connection up to a mutual crush that had now run its course. We’d kissed. There was no going back. But we could move forward professionally .

No need to jeopardize our friendships or working relationships over a silly crush.

“Right,” I said, feigning a relieved sigh. “Thank goodness for that.”

Imogen’s smile widened into a grin and she shook her head slightly, as if trying to convince herself she wasn’t a complete idiot for letting me kiss her.

I decided at that moment I was going to go back up to the farmhouse and ask Lucas to bury me alive in the backyard.

“I was thinking tomorrow we could head down to the barn and the pasture and film there. I’ve got a cute idea for a video introducing the horses.”

I nodded my head, that familiar smile whenever I was in Imogen’s presence returning. I hadn’t completely screwed this up. I might not have everything I wanted, but I still had her in my life. It would be enough. I would make it enough.

“Sounds good. Meet you at the farmhouse for breakfast in the morning?”

Imogen nodded and turned to head back inside. She hesitated at the threshold, and that ridiculously hopeful part of me perked up.

But whatever Imogen might have wanted to say, she thought better of it, giving me a quiet “good night” before stepping back inside the house, closing the door behind her.

I mulled the day over as I walked back up the worn dirt path to the farmhouse. I knew Imogen had her walls built high. I knew enough of her past to know that those walls were more than justified .

Selfishly, I could admit that I wanted to know her. She was gorgeous, yes, but more important, she was kind, funny, and adventurous. I felt more myself around her than I did in most places.

I sat down at my desk, drumming my fingers along my closed laptop. Imogen had taken on a lot of the administrative work that I hated—that was the job I’d hired her to do, after all—but relinquishing full control over those aspects of Winding Road had proven more difficult than I’d expected.

Every spare cent I’d made in the last decade had gone towards purchasing this land and establishing this nonprofit.

I was creating the place I’d wish existed for my father.

Because if he had known there was a place where first responders could be in community with one another, where they could be with people who understood all the horrible things they’d seen, maybe things would have been different.

If he’d had someone to share his burden, maybe he’d still be here.

Maybe my mother wouldn’t be where she is now.

I let out a heavy sigh, rubbing a hand over my face. I stalked into my bedroom, opening up the windows to let in the cool evening air.

The crickets were already singing their night song, and the distant sounds of rustling treeswere a balm to my soul.

It would never be enough.

The next morning came quicker than I was prepared for.

I didn’t sleep great, spending the first part of the night mulling over everything that happened with Imogen yesterday.

I rolled over in bed and took my phone off the charger, groaning when I saw I had five unread text messages, most from Connor.

“It’s not even 7A.M.,” I muttered.

Big Daddy Connor

We’ll be there around 17:30 tonight. Abbie’s making peanut butter cookies.

Need us to pick up anything at the store?

He’d sent a follow up text less than twenty minutes later.

Big Daddy Connor

Don’t tell me you forgot

“Damn it,” I exclaimed, jumping to my feet.

The kiss had completely derailed my ability to form a cohesive thought yesterday, and in the chaos, I had completely forgotten that Connor and Abbie were going to be joining us for dinner tonight.

There were two more unread messages from Lucas, but I quickly decided I’d deal with them later.

I pulled on fresh clothes, brushed my teeth, and flew downstairs. Imogen was standing by the kitchen sink, a fresh cup of coffee in her hands. She was wearing a lilac dress that hugged her hips in a way that really should be illegal.

This was torture, I decided. Having the woman I craved standing in my kitchen, looking like she walked right out my dreams and into my house, and not being able to touch her was torture .

“Good morning?” Imogen said, glancing around, clearly confused as to why I was panting like I was being chased by a freaking bear.

“Abbie and Connor are coming over for dinner and I completely forgot,” I said. Imogen let out a low whistle.

“Well, it’s a good thing they’re really important grant proposal people and not our best friends. Otherwise we’d really be in trouble.”

“Ha,” I said, rolling my eyes. “Very funny. I still don’t have anything prepared.”

Imogen rolled her eyes.

“We have plenty of food here. I’m sure between the two of us we can figure out something to feed the children.”

I nodded. Between the two of us, we’d figure something out. Imogen didn’t seem concerned, and I decided I wouldn’t be either.

“I know we’re still waiting to hear back from the interview committee, but I’d really like to grab a few more shots of the property.

Your website is pretty good, but I’m working on updating some of the copy and images, so it all looks professional.

Do you have any nature trails nearby?” Imogen asked.

“We can showcase that as a potential photoshoot location for wedding and event photographers.”

I nodded. “There’s one just past the barn, actually.”

“Let’s go then, cowboy.”

She really needed to stop calling me that, or I was going to be ruined forever.

Imogen was looking around with her camera in her hands, taking in the full effect of Winding Road in the daytime as we headed towards the barn.

The venue had been mostly quiet since Abbie and Connor’s wedding, save for a baby shower a few weeks ago.

I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t nervous about the barn becoming a money pit.

So much of Connor’s inheritance had gone into the renovations, and the last thing I wanted to do was shirk his gift by making a bad judgement call about the viability of the venue.

Imogen had faith that once we started advertising the space was open for booking, we’d see an increase in overall income. I could only hope she was right.